


summertime (is meant to fall in love)

by wouldyouknowmore



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Single-sex Loki, Vaginal Sex, and then actually takes loki to a good spot, summer boys, thor be like i know a spot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25819240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wouldyouknowmore/pseuds/wouldyouknowmore
Summary: A short trip to Vanaheim at the height of its summer has Loki ready to write the realm off entirely. But things become much more interesting when he runs into his old childhood friend and husband-to-be after several centuries and finds that he's grownquitea lot.“I could take you there, if you like.”Loki wonders if that’s all that Thor has in mind… and then wonders if he’d really object if it isn’t. Either way, the opportunity to cool off for at least a little while is too tempting to resist, so he nods and says, “By all means, thank you.”(And he decides that perhaps he can keep an open mind aboutotheropportunities.)
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 258
Collections: Best Thorkis





	summertime (is meant to fall in love)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Wendy for carrying out her usual wifely duties with the beta, moral support, ass-kicking, AND coming up with the premise for this one in the first place. ❤️
> 
> ETA the mood board I made for this bc I sat there and photoshopped some skin blue for the first time since I've been in this fandom and by god someone's gotta look at it other than me

Before today, Loki wouldn’t have said that he _loves_ Vanaheim, necessarily. The winters are lovely, with its pine forests covered in snow, the numerous lakes frosted over, birdsong everywhere… It’s nice, like springtime at home, though the winds aren’t so harsh. He enjoys the table that Lady Freyja keeps at Sessrúmnir as well, especially with their shared love of sweet things, and her conversation has been charming all the long years that he’s known her. But Loki has only ever visited in the winter, and for obvious reasons, he finds it best to reserve judgment on any realm until he’s experienced its summer, which he tends to avoid altogether, regardless of realm (save perhaps Niflheim). Also for obvious reasons. 

So when he’s summoned for an official function of state in the dead of Jotunheim’s coldest winter in years, he looks at it as both an opportunity to thaw out a bit and to form a more comprehensive opinion of Vanaheim. What are they on now, autumn? They must be close, anyway, he’d thought while packing. Perhaps the trees would be dressed in reds and golds already. 

However, _after_ today, Loki can say quite confidently that he _despises_ Vanaheim. 

“It’s very nearly autumn, yes,” Lady Freyja assures him over a sweltering dinner that he can only pick at for the sake of politeness. It’s far too hot to even think of eating anything that isn’t frozen. “Though it seems summer has decided it has one last thing to say, doesn’t it?”

_“Get fucked, blue boy,”_ is the one last thing. Loki’s sure of it.

He sleeps fitfully that first night, if at all, freezing and refreezing the decorative pool in his quarters when it melts, and finally just halfway submerging himself in it and dozing off that way, hoping for a break in the weather tomorrow for the inter-realm council meeting he’s here to observe. They’re boring enough to make it difficult to concentrate as it is, even without the heat to distract him. 

However, morning brings only one thing of note, and it is not a cold front, alas. It _is_ interesting, though.

He hasn’t seen the crown prince of Asgard since they were children, and nearly doesn’t recognize him until a delegate from Nidavellir greets him by name, but a little further inspection from across Sessrúmnir’s entrance hall reveals that the eyes and the smile are quite the same. He’s grown significantly though. Loki has too, of course, but back then, Thor Odinson had been a skinny thing even shorter than him (not so strange for an Aesir child, but very odd to a young Loki, used to Jotunn children his age being twice his height already). Now, he’s broad-shouldered and solidly built, taller than everyone else in the room, including Loki himself. 

See? Interesting. 

“Ah, you’ve seen him,” Freyja suddenly whispers in his ear, startling him. 

“‘Him’ who?” Loki deflects. 

“Your betrothed, obviously. How long has it been, then?”

“That we’ve been betrothed? Father arranged it the day the healers said they were certain a child my size could survive infancy, so nine hundred years or so.”

“Don’t be obtuse. Since you’ve seen Thor.”

“Long enough that that beard he’s got now was just a wisp of hair on his upper lip.”

“And you were awkward and gangly yourself, undoubtedly. What he must think of you now…”

“He hasn’t noticed me,” Loki says. “Not that it matters. I am as I am, and he can take it up with the Allfather if he’s got a problem wedding me year after next. He’s the one who approved it.”

Freyja grins at him in a way that suggests he’s still being obtuse, though perhaps unintentionally this time. 

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says, and waves her hand. “I’ve got duties to attend to, but believe me when I tell you, Loki, that he has _certainly_ noticed you.”

She does not elaborate further, though she does give him a wink before she vanishes down the corridor. Loki supposes he’ll just have to wait and find out what she means by this himself. If he doesn’t pass out from heat exhaustion in the middle of the council session, that is.

  
  


———

  
  


By the time the council is adjourned in the late afternoon, Loki is fairly sure he understands Freyja’s playful little gestures.

Thor had only intentionally caught his eye once from the other side of the council chamber, and had offered a small, warm smile of recognition. But throughout the rest of the session, Loki could feel those blue eyes on him as intensely as the summer humidity. Every time he’d glanced over, though, Thor had been quite pointedly looking somewhere else, such as at his feet, or out the window, or up at the ceiling. Amusing, considering he’s Asgard’s heir, future ruler of the Nine Realms, and grown into his own now, handsome (as Loki can admit after closer study) and strapping (as Asgardians go), and there he was getting flustered every time Loki, whose hand he’s already guaranteed, looked his way. 

But he does not find it _endearing_ , he tells himself, when Thor waits for the opportunity to hold the door for him as everyone leaves.

“Your highness,” Loki says with a polite nod of his head as he falls into step beside him. 

“Your highness,” Thor replies, smiling. 

Loki can’t help but return it when he recalls a similar exchange centuries ago, when Thor and his parents had visited Jotunheim for some reason or another. He’d responded with, “Well, we can’t _both_ be ‘your highness’ all day. Perhaps you should just be Thor, then,” and had immediately been shushed by his father. They’d just been ‘Thor’ and ‘Loki’ to one another for the rest of that visit, though. 

“Perhaps you should just be Thor,” he says now. “Wouldn’t want to confuse things, hm?”

Thor laughs, and it rumbles in his chest like the thunder he’s already become well known for. 

“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten me. And please know that for you, your highness, I’m always just Thor.”

He offers his arm, smile still fond and warm, and Loki takes it immediately (and maybe, casually, gets a surreptitious feel for how firm and how large that arm is). 

(The answer is Very.)

“Would you consider joining me for dinner this evening?” Thor asks. “It’s been ages, and I’d love to hear how you’ve been. I never found out whether or not your brother fell for that elaborate prank, after all.”

_“You’ll have to narrow that down,”_ Loki is about to say, but then he recalls how the two of them had snuck into Helblindi’s chambers, Thor standing on his shoulders to reach something or other on the shelf… He doesn’t remember the specifics, but the memory of Helblindi chasing him down the corridor, bellowing, and having to slip between his legs and out the window is vivid. 

Loki grins and says, “Oh, perfectly. It’s not all been antagonizing the future king of Jotunheim, though. I daresay I’ve grown up at least a little bit since then.” 

“I can see that.”

The heat in that statement is not imagined, Loki’s sure of it. But whatever he might have said in response is driven from his mind the next moment, when they step out into the open courtyard, and the heat of Vanaheim’s intolerable summer assaults all his senses at once. 

“I do hope you’ll tell me all about it,” Thor goes on, unbothered for all appearances. Aesir, ugh. He probably _likes_ it this hot. 

“I’ll do my best, but I may not get halfway through the telling before I faint.”

Thor glances over at him then, and his smile vanishes. “For Ymir’s sake, you’re flushed nearly violet, Loki. Do you need to sit down? Should I send for someone?”

“No, no. It’s just uncomfortable, not dangerous. I’m being dramatic. If you could summon a small snowstorm, though, I’d be most appreciative.” 

It’s a joke, but Thor mutters, “I’m afraid I’d call a blizzard, unfortunately,” and Loki wonders just how much his power has grown. Norns… Not that that’s at all attractive, of course.

“I’d take it.”

“Undoubtedly. I may have a solution, though, one less likely to banish me from Lady Freyja’s good graces. There’s a small spring in the forest just east of Fólkvangr, ice cold. I used to go there when I was visiting my mother’s family in the summers. Do you know it?” 

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Perhaps a swim would make the weather more tolerable for you. I could take you, if you like.”

Loki wonders if that’s all that Thor has in mind… and then wonders if he’d really object if it isn’t. Either way, the opportunity to cool off for at least a little while is too tempting to resist, so he nods and says, “By all means, thank you.” 

(And he decides that perhaps he can keep an open mind about _other_ opportunities.)

  
  


———

  
  


Thor asks a dozen questions on the way there, seemingly fascinated by every answer Loki gives him. And not just in the way that really says, _“I’m only acting interested because I’m trying to get into your loincloth.”_ Loki is familiar enough with that sort of thing to know the difference, and so far, Thor has given him no reason to doubt his sincerity. He has a good memory for details and has kept apprised of current events throughout the realms, demonstrated when he asks about Byleistr’s recent marriage to the son of a jarl in the far south of Jotunheim (“That’s all of us paired off now,” Loki sighs. “Whatever will Father do when you and I are wed, and he’s left with only Helblindi to keep him company, waiting for him to die so he can be king?”), and when he brings up Loki’s newborn nephew, Helblindi’s heir, the first Aesir-sized Jotunn born since Loki himself (“At least he’ll have his Uncle Loki to help him along and give him guidance,” Thor says, and Loki replies with a snicker, “Yes, I’ll be sure he keeps himself in trouble and his father on his toes every step of the way.”). 

The conversation comes to an abrupt end, however, after they reach the spring, and Loki starts in on his clothing. Thor is noticeably silent as he strips, and Loki can feel those eyes on him yet again, almost burning in their intensity this time. It’s not as though he wears very much in the first place, Jotunn fashion being what it is ( _comfortable_ , he thinks, and spares a thought for how strangled Asgardians must feel at all times wearing tunics like Thor’s), but he doesn’t usually walk around with his ass bared to the realms either, so he supposes he can forgive Thor’s fervent gazing at it. 

It’s a little flattering, too, anyway. 

The water isn’t exactly frigid, as Loki was hoping it would be, but it’s cold all the same, and a more than welcome relief while he wades in up to his chest. He hadn’t really paid much attention to his surroundings on the way here, too hot to do more than keep up his end of the conversation, but now that he’s on his way to cooling down again, he notices just how beautiful the spring is. The pool is narrow, surrounded by high, mossy rocks on three sides, ferns and trees leaning over the edge and providing some much-needed shade. Everything is rich, vivid green, greener than Loki knew nature could be, aside from a few golden leaves floating on the surface of the water. It’s altogether lovely, now that he can breathe.

Perhaps Vanaheim deserves a bit more credit from him, he thinks. 

There’s a small waterfall at the other end, where the spring itself bubbles up out of the ground on a low ledge above the pool, so he swims over, feeling the smooth stones under his feet disappear as he gets into deeper water and reappear closer to the wall, and he puts his head under the spray, letting it splash in his face and slick his hair back before he turns and looks back the way he came. Thor is still standing at the edge of the water, staring after him. He doesn’t appear to have moved at all since Loki started undressing. 

“What, am I swimming alone?” Loki asks once he makes his way back across the pool, conscious of Thor’s eyes on him the whole time. 

“I’m just taking it all in first,” Thor replies after a moment, and smiles. Loki raises an eyebrow at him, and the smile gets a little wider, but softer as well. 

Thor has already gotten his show, so Loki feels no qualms about watching while he tugs off his boots, shrugs out of his tunic… And he’s well rewarded for paying attention, too. Whatever memories Loki has left of the scrawny youth he’d known centuries before are banished the instant Thor’s chest and arms are revealed. His mouth goes a little dry, too, but he doesn’t think anyone could blame him. Asgardian fashion does Thor no favors, he thinks. He’d be much more suited to Jotunn clothing… let those pecs and biceps see daylight more often—and _Norns_ , the thighs, too, Loki amends as Thor steps out of his breeches. He’d look a treat in one of Loki’s shorter mail skirts, cut high over the legs—

Loki notices his cock then. 

He doesn’t see why Thor needs to wear clothes at all, actually.

Thor wades down into the shallows, hissing at the cold for a moment, but Loki can’t be bothered to care about that. There’s a thatch of curls between Thor’s legs, like most Aesir he’s seen nude (male or female or otherwise), a shade of gold just darker than the hair on his head, and rather than striking Loki as odd-looking like usual and therefore to be ignored, he wants to rake his fingers through it and get ahold of that cock, feel the weight of it in his hand and coax it to hardness, get a handful of the sack behind it and find out if it’s as sensitive as he thinks it might be, listen to Thor gasp in his ear—

Shit. He’s in it now. 

“Are you alright?” Thor asks when he’s close enough for Loki to reach out and touch if he wanted. Which he does want. He just… decides to see how it plays out first. 

“Fine, much better.”

“You’re flushed again, is all.” 

Loki clears his throat and gives him what he hopes is a more casual grin than it feels. “Fancy that,” he says. “You’re looking a bit pinker than usual yourself.” 

Thor smiles back. “Fancy that.”

Loki knows right then and there that, yes, they’re definitely doing this.

He doesn’t want to give his husband-to-be the wrong impression, though. All Thor has done so far is give him some pleasant conversation, the chance to cool off, and a quality view. If he wants to get an early taste of what he has to look forward to on their wedding night, Thor will have to make that move himself. 

But in the meantime, Loki’s not going to stand here and wait for Thor to slowly work his way into his personal space as he’s doing now, either. 

“Perhaps you just need to cool off as well,” Loki says in his most pleasant voice, right before he hooks his heel behind Thor’s knee and knocks him off his feet. 

  
The splash is loud enough to send a few nearby birds twittering off into the trees, and Loki makes a break for it, darting back into the deeper end of the pool by the time Thor resurfaces. 

“Oh, is that the shape of it?” he splutters, and pushes his wet hair out of his eyes. Loki gives him a little wave, and that gets him laughing, and then he’s swimming after him, mischievous intent in his eyes.

Thor is strong, but Loki is quick, and he gets caught up in the chase, having too much fun slipping out of Thor’s grip every time he gets close, splashing him in the face, laughing even when Thor eventually gets a good enough hold around his ankle to tug him under and pinch him like they’re children again, and brothers instead of betrothed. He wriggles free and ducks beneath the waterfall, hoping the spray will give him a moment’s distraction to sneak up behind Thor and give him an icy little jolt under the water as payback, but before he can get any further, those massive arms catch him around the middle and drag him back to the surface. 

“God of mischief,” Thor chuckles in his ear. His breath is warm, and his beard is rough against Loki’s cheek, and he suddenly finds himself much less eager to break this hold. “I see your title is still as apt as it was when we were children.” 

“I have my reputation to maintain, after all,” Loki replies… and if he were really concerned about that, he could easily take advantage of the way that Thor relaxes his grip when he stops trying to slip free. But now Thor is also sliding his hands up Loki’s sides under the water, pulling his wet hair off the back of his neck, tracing a clan line down between his shoulder blades with one finger, and Loki’s reputation quickly becomes the furthest thing from his mind. 

He breaks out in goosebumps when Thor leans in and presses his lips to his shoulder, despite being very, very warm again. 

“You deserve it,” Thor breathes, and then a moment later he adds in a thoughtful tone, “and this.”

There’s a hand on top of his head and water in his face and up his nose the next thing Loki knows, but only for a second, and then he’s the one spluttering and swimming after Thor, who cackles, delighted with himself, as he flees. He heads for a dead-end up against one of the stone walls, though, and when Loki catches up to him, ready to freeze him solid to the stones under their feet all the way up to where the water laps at those enormous, perfect tits of his, Thor ducks out of the way and crowds him up against the mossy rock instead. 

“Truce,” he laughs while Loki forgets that he wanted to give him frostbite two seconds ago in favor of looking up at his handsome face and dark lashes, and appreciating how much taller he really is. “Please. If I laugh much more, I’ll sprain something.”

“What’s in it for me? I’ll need something in return if you expect me not to seek vengeance for that offense.”

Thor flushes again, but doesn’t let his smile slip. “Oh, I’m sure I can think of something,” he says. “If you find the idea as agreeable as I do, that is.” 

“I suppose that depends on how agreeable you find it,” Loki replies.

Thor’s hands find his hips under the water and pull him close, pressing the line of a half-hard and still swelling cock against his own. 

“Oh, _that_ agreeable—,” Loki starts to say, but Thor leans in and kisses him, and he finds that he’s quite alright with being interrupted. Especially when Thor tilts his head just so and pulls him closer, slips one hand up to the back of his neck… He doesn’t let up until Loki is lightheaded and clutching at his arms for support, but then he only pulls away far enough for them both to catch their breaths. 

“I realize I’m being rather forward,” he says, and then catches Loki’s lips again like he can’t help himself. To be honest, though, Loki can’t really seem to resist either. 

“Mmmmn, I hadn’t noticed.” 

Thor smiles into the kiss and moves down to the side of his throat, his beard brushing against Loki’s skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps after it. Loki feels it’s only fair if he grinds up into him a bit—and then quite a bit more when Thor hums like that. 

“I just don’t want you to think I go about this way, taking just anybody to secluded pools in the forest and chasing them around in the water and kissing them,” Thor tells him. 

“No, I should hope not.” 

“I only do this for beautiful Jotunn princes to whom I am already betrothed, and with whom I’ve been enamored since childhood.”

There’s a fluttering in Loki’s chest—and then he has to laugh when he thinks of how absurd they’d been as children, how right Freyja had been to assume Loki had been awkward and gangly, and how ridiculous it is for Thor to have developed a little crush on him back then. 

“You could have at least waited until I filled out and learned to keep my hair tidy,” he says.

Thor glances back up at him and says, “Oh, believe me. It’s much worse now that you have.” His smile falters for a moment, as though he means to say something else, but he seems to think better of it and reaches for Loki’s cock under the water instead. 

It probably wasn’t important, Loki thinks, and drops his head back to the stone behind him. Certainly not more important than this.

His hand is large and calloused and so very good, just as good as his lips and tongue and teeth as he kisses Loki again until he’s panting, rocking up into his fist and lifting a leg up over his hip for leverage. But he doesn’t want to come like this. He wants to feel Thor in him, more than just the delicious little brushes of his cock against Loki’s cunt while he moves, and he wants it right here in the spring and then again over there on the soft moss by the edge of the water once they’ve caught their breath. Thor seems to have caught on, thankfully, since he slows his hand and reaches lower, tentatively, until one of his fingers slips between his folds, and Thor groans into his mouth. Loki wonders how much he knew about Jotunn anatomy before today; he’s sure that it’s common knowledge, but then again, knowing Jotnar are single-gendered isn’t quite the same thing as experiencing it for yourself, and Jotnar of Loki’s size are incredibly rare these days. But Thor doesn’t seem surprised regardless, and the way he slides two fingers up inside Loki then is much more confident. And terribly effective.

Both of them swear at once, though Loki goes on to breathlessly add, “That’s quite enough of that,” and gets ahold of Thor’s cock, just as blessedly hot and thick and heavy in his hand as he’d imagined earlier—and it’s going to be so much better in him. “You’re welcome to take all the time you like later, but I’d much rather have this right now.” 

“Norns, Loki,” Thor gasps. He also slips his fingers back out right away and hefts Loki up by his ass as though he weighs nothing. (And Loki swears again.) 

Thor holds still and lets Loki sink down on his cock in one slow, smooth push. And he was right; it’s infinitely better, which is saying something considering how good it had been before. He feels like he’s been stuffed so full that he’s not sure he’ll ever breathe properly again, but that’s exactly what he wants, and he wraps his legs around Thor’s waist, braces his upper back against the stone, and lifts up and back down again, slowly, just to confirm that, no, he’s never going to have enough of this. 

(The thought that perhaps they should just go ahead and bump the wedding up occurs to him then, but he’s sure that’s just the excellent cock in him talking. Thor is gorgeous and funny and good with his hands, but he’s in no hurry just yet.) 

This is apparently more than Thor can handle without taking matters into his own hands, however, but Loki is more than happy to be nearly crushed against the wall and kissed as though Thor could eat him whole. He’s even happier when Thor sets a steady rhythm with his hips, fucking him into the mossy stone with a firm grip on his ass while Loki holds onto his shoulders and gasps into his mouth, their shared heavy breaths and the water splashing between them nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of the little waterfall and birdsong in the trees. It’s good enough that Loki starts to seriously wonder if he ought to move to Asgard early, just to acclimate himself (to both Gladsheim and his future husband’s bed), but then Thor turns his attentions back to Loki’s cock and drives any thought other than _more_ and _harder_ and _yes Thor right there_ from his mind. He also says these things aloud, just to be safe, and Thor groans his name and obliges him.

Too late, Loki realizes that he’d like to drag this out for the foreseeable future, perhaps until next year. But it’s too good, and he’s too lost to do anything but tilt his head back and let Thor mouth at his throat and pull him off with firm, irresistible strokes while he thrusts up into him (and his aim is devastating, by the way). He can feel it building, closer and stronger every moment, and Thor must notice how he tenses up all over, because he says, “Go on, love, come for me,” and manages to coordinate the timing of his hand and his hips in a way that shoves Loki right over the edge.

He lets out a wordless cry loud enough to send the birds fleeing again and grinds down on Thor’s cock, determined to wring out every last bit of pleasure that he can. There’s plenty of it, but he’s always been a little greedy, and the way that Thor moans and follows right after, pulsing deep inside him where he can feel it filling him up even more, only makes Loki want it all over again as soon as possible. He doesn’t think that will be a problem though; once his heart has stopped pounding in his ears and his breathing has mostly returned to normal, he realizes that Thor is staring at him hungrily, even more so now than he had before. 

“I still stand by what I said, by the way,” Loki says, and tugs him in close for a searing kiss. 

“What’s that?” Thor mutters into his mouth, right before he catches his bottom lip with his teeth. 

“About you being welcome to take your time later.” 

Thor hums, and his half-hard cock twitches inside Loki and starts to swell again. Which is very interesting… he’s heard Thor referred to as a god of fertility as well, and perhaps that comes with a few added perks. He’ll have to investigate. Thoroughly.

“I’m delighted to hear it. May I ask when ‘later’ will arrive?”

“As soon as you’d like it to,” Loki replies, and tightens up around him, just to hear him suck in a sharp breath. The grin he gives Loki a moment after is nothing but promising, though. 

“Oh, look at the time,” he says.

  
  


———

  
  


Loki brings up the idea of a little extension of his stay in Vanaheim to Lady Freyja two days later. He and Thor have done quite a lot of catching up (among other things), but he’s quickly realizing that this brief visit isn’t going to be nearly enough, so over lunch with her, he mentions a personal holiday once all of the official business is taken care of. He hardly finishes his sentence before she insists upon it. 

“You must! We should be due for some cooler weather next week, at any rate,” she says. 

“Wonderful,” Loki replies, and means it. “I’m spending nearly all my free time in a cold spring in the forest, after all, and as lovely as it is, I’m afraid I’ll prune permanently soon.” 

“Yes, I thought you might have found it. Anyway, you won’t want for company either, because I just spoke to Thor about staying as well.”

“Oh, fancy that,” Loki says into his glass. 

“I’ve relocated him to the rooms next to yours, by the way. There’s a discreet side door that connects them. You’re welcome.” 

—and he nearly chokes on his mead. 

Freyja grins at him. “Stay as long as you like,” she says. 

And later, when Loki’s sweaty and sated and sprawled out across Thor’s bed, he decides that perhaps he’s been unfair, too quick to judge. He’s sure he could learn to love Vanaheim after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and feel free to let me know if you enjoyed it ❤️❤️❤️


End file.
